His aim was fatally true;
the man was killed on the spot.
With his eyes Desmond thanked the Babu; there was no time for words. The
hostile grabs were undoubtedly making chase. They had separated, with the
intention of bearing down upon and overhauling the Tremukji in whatever
direction she might flee. Fuzl Khan still lay helpless upon the deck.
"Secure that man," said Desmond to two of the crew.
He spoke curtly and sternly, with the air of one who expected his orders
to be executed without question; though he felt a touch of anxiety lest
the men should still defy him. But they went about their task instantly
without a word: Desmond's bold stand, and the swift overthrow of the big
Gujarati, had turned the tide in his favor, and he thrilled with relief
and keen pleasure that he was master of the situation.
While the ringleader of the mutineers was being firmly bound, Desmond
turned to Nanna and said:
"Now, answer me at once. What is that place?"
"It is Kulaba, sahib."
"Where is Kulaba?"
"A few miles south of Bombay, sahib."
"Good. Run up the fore-topsail."
He went to the wheel.
"Thank you, serang. I will relieve you. Go forward and see that the men
crowd on all sail."
The mutiny had been snuffed out; the men went about their work quietly,
with the look of whipped dogs; and barring accidents Desmond knew that
before long he would make Bombay and be safe. With every stitch of canvas
set, the vessel soon showed that she had the heels of her pursuers.
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